https://youtu.be/qanqpSHoTv0?si=C2Qu-yE_izrU3f13

side st side step mysteries & evasion

“Tell me about yourself,” he said, not wanting to think anymore about the recent events, pulling the long sweeping fringe from her dark eyes and holding her face looking up at him, liking how she looked caught within his grasp.

They were still on the kitchen chair, her legs around him, having finished their meal together 

“There really isn’t that much to tell,” she glanced away from the distraction of his eyes and wondered how to answer him, “I just moved here to Portsburgh to start my life over—find a new direction,” and while the wine relaxed her enough to say this, her discomfort of the details of her life held resistance 

“Why did you choose Portsburgh?”

But still looking away from the distraction of his compelling eyes, she smiled slightly and shrugged, 

“it seemed as good a place as any. To start over.”

“Do you have family here?” he asked her

She didn’t answer right away. These were questions she had managed to avoid with people. Sometimes she answered with rehearsed replies she had carefully selected from past conversations. 

But all she said was,

“no.”

“Was it a job that fell through?” he tried to prompt her, becoming curious with her reluctance to elaborate 

And because of the wine, she couldn’t remember all those prepared answers she usually used. But, she also didn’t want to be fake to him. She stared at the way the candle over on the counter by the sink flickered and again, simply said,

“no.”

“So you just came here with —no idea what you would do?”

Only now did she look back at him. She now sought his eyes and it was because of her intoxicated mind…. that allowed something vulnerable to surface from just the sound of his lilting voice; the gentle tone it had…. it caused her mind to turn to putty. And his eyes mirrored that ability to cause her to react; and, forgetting herself, she let herself tumble inside them. 

Perhaps that was a mistake; they made her feel so safe…. inside them. And for a moment, she forgot his question. She just allowed herself this safety. A safety that ….she had not known for so long. Maybe never. And the feeling wrapped her in its warmth, so she could not find the desire to leave this feeling and she could only stare inside them. 

As his fingers started to caress her cheek, she felt his arms tighten slightly around her. Soon she realized she hadn’t answered his question, so vaguely she said,

“I read about it here—it sounded nice….so—I just packed up my car and started driving….”

Or something like that ….it was too involved for her to think about right now. 

“That’s extraordinary! You’re so brave! I’ve never done anything like that!” he said smiling as he forced her to look at him as she had pulled her eyes away from the vague compliment 

Her face colored brightly as she turned her gaze back at him,

“not really so brave,” she said dropping her eyes, “maybe cowardly. I was….”

But she suddenly stopped what she was about to say. She wasn’t sure if she should say what almost slipped right out 

“What?” he asked, sensing this and his touch along her cheek moved along the angled cheekbone that followed the slant of her eyes and his seemed to hold her captive there, like his arms that had subtly pulled her closer to him, his warmth weakening her resistance 

“I was running away.”

“From….?”

She stared up at him,

“someone.”

“A man?” he asked

“Yes,” she admitted with some relief being able to share this and sighed, “this seemed the last place he’d ever look for me.”

“Who is he?” he asked her, “an ex?”

“Yes,” she looked back at him, “what about you? What about your life and—“ she wanted to say ‘that person with that otherworldly ringtone’ but instead she said, “your job back home? Shouldn’t you be getting back to it? Why were you visiting the Bishops in the first place—was it a holiday?”

Grant sighed heavily and leaned back against the chair, but he didn’t release her from his arms. Instead he pulled her closer,

“Some of it has to do with work—but also for Arthur and Aunt Fiona—I come here several times a year—or rather—came….to help Arthur with the website and book keeping….” he sighed, “but this I’d rather not talk about, I’d rather hear about you.”

“I’d like to know about you—like, where are you from, for instance?—what about your….family?”

“It’s not that interesting,” he said evasively now and went on to say, “I’m from a dull industrial part of the country, it wouldn’t interest you—I’d really rather know more about you. It takes a tough person, I think, to decide to just leave and start all over without knowing a single person where you are going to. And no plan. I admire that.”

What he said surprised her. She had never thought of herself as tough. 

For whatever reason, she sensed, he didn’t like to talk about himself but then, nor did she. She decided to respect his space and let him pull her head against him, his fingers in her hair as she listened to his heartbeat. 

But the heat from her body released more of that scent of her and it went to his head, and without hesitation he ran his hands down the back of her, following the path of the long zipper that held her burgundy dress together. He followed it back up to the top and his fingers played with the zipper as he captured the back of her skull into his hand and kissed her suddenly on the mouth, turning her head up to him as he stood up, hoisting her slightly in his arms as he stood, holding her with her legs still wrapped around him.

“Would you like to go upstairs—I promise to behave—or back in the sitting room?” he asked her

It had been a long time since anyone held her this way, it reminded her of her childhood and waking from nightmares and the feeling of his arms around her forced all logical thoughts away,

“I haven’t seen your room where you stay—can you show it to me? I’m just a bit curious.”

It was the witches’ brew; side st mystery scene continued

 

It is hard to say just how long that kiss went on for. Faun was too absorbed elsewhere to notice time and was mostly focused on figuring out how to unknot his tie while being able to kiss him at the same time and what happened was, a reminder of the quiche which came by a slight burning smell 

“Oh no!” she jumped off off his lap, like with a reflex of spider-sense and was at the oven in half a second, only pausing for the oven gloves…. “saved—its perfect! It only started to burn a little, a bit toasty….” she talked a lot when she was nervous. And moved about a lot, being hyperactive by nature which gave her a sort of flightiness in her movements; pronounced because of him; because she wasn’t sure if ….they should —out of respect to the Bishops —yes, but also she didn’t want him to do something he might regret later—was it the grief ….? And was she wrong to let something happen between them if ….that were the case 

He watched her from the chair as she fluttered around the kitchen arranging things; cutting pieces and selecting dishes from the polished wood cabinets and on two antique Johnson brothers mismatched square chintz plates she put a piece of quiche and walked over to the table with them. She put one in front of Grant and one on her side; went back for forks and paper napkins and laid each beside either plate. 

“It’s too hot to eat yet—we should let it cool down,” she said 

He had been watching her do this, finding it amusing and when she finally sat down in front of him, he was pouring more wine into the glasses, suspecting the reasons for the subterfuges, and thought wine might take care of matters. 

He raised his glass and clinked it to hers,

“to King Leopold,” and he indicated with his head, she had to raise her glass too. So, she did, of course,

“To King Leopold,” and at mention of his name he awoke from his nap by the stairs and got up with a “whuff”, sniffing the air as he came walking over. This made them laugh and then Grant said,

“bottoms up— you are required to drink all of that, it’s a toasting rule,” he said 

“Is it?” she looked back at him and automatically lifted her glass and sipped it thoughtfully. You see, she was feeling the effects of the first one still. 

“All of it,” he said and reached across the table as she had been about to put it down, but he brought it back up to her lips

“It’s really good wine, what is it called?” she asked as she let him turn the glass up against her mouth 

“Witch’s Brew,” he said, “it’s spiced,” he said and it seemed he was closer suddenly. She didn’t notice he moved his chair over—well, not until the glass was empty and he was putting it down and pulled her head to him with both his hands and kissed her hard. He felt her go limp. But now his stomach growled. He broke the kiss,

“we should eat,” he said but he reached across for her fork and broke off a piece of the quiche with it, bringing it up to her mouth, wanting to watch her now swollen mouth as he fed her.

And as they ate together, he pulled her back into his chair, his arms around her as he said, “we can just cuddle, if you want.” 

“Yeah. Ok,” she said, even as he was kissing her 

“And I think—it’s safer with regards to the intruder —we don’t leave each other alone tonight—to be safe,” he said 

her move; Castled & Granted a toast off the sidewalk inside

 

There was a moment when Faun caught a glimpse of Grant as they were sitting facing each other slightly at the small square wood kitchen table after he had poured the wine. The lights had felt too bright, so, Faun took out some wide pillar candles and set one at the table and one on the counter by the sink and one above the stove on the little ledge by the spice cabinet.

It was the way the lighting —or lack there of— seemed to allow some layers to drop. As it seemed.

He must be thinking of Fiona, Faun could sense it, and it did not require a seance to sense his mood, despite ….as Halloween loomed everywhere, somehow the feel of the Bishop’s ghosts loomed a little too near. 

She had wanted to ask him about if he needed help with ….the funeral—or what was even happening about it but, how to ask and at the appropriate moment?

“Do you need help with —their arrangements?” Faun blurted out because his face looked suddenly vulnerable. Which was very becoming on him, somehow; it was something about those poet’s eyes of his and the pout of his mouth when he got to brooding. As she had seen him do. He’d tug at his beard and bite his lip as deep creases dug between his thick, pensive brows—as he did now; something Byronic; that indescribable thing about him that made her melt whenever he looked at her —or sat in front of her….like now ….

He looked back at her now as she reached for his hand and those meadows drew her in 

Slowly, he smiled but she noticed that his eyes were suddenly a bit bloodshot. His fingers tightened slightly as he looked at her. He said softly,

“thank you—I’ll let you know ….” then sighed but after a pensive pause he reached for a wine glass, clinked it to hers and said, “you know, they would want us to toast them,” he forced a smile, “but—yeah….I am glad you are here.”

It was the openness there in his eyes at that moment that she could not help but be caught under. He was saying more with his eyes as he looked right at her. It was this moment when Faun understood what it was about him; that quiet poet within that never spoke what he felt and most believed it was not there but she saw it all in his eyes. And in the tones he spoke in. Even his pauses spoke volumes. And she had no idea why she could see all this —she could not know. Unless it was something possibly familiar had she been more self aware. And she was attracted to this about him. It was even more intense for her than just his natural air of masculinity that he exuded in the most unconscious and minuscule of ways. 

It was that, ultimately that …. and it was just after their toast to the Bishops—and it could be the wine went to her head and made her do it —and it might have been, too, the loosened tie he wore and flannel jacket, the scruffy beard or that pout? It had to be his eyes that made her stand up and go over to him. She slid, facing him and climbed into his lap, putting her arms around his neck, her burgundy dress falling in long folds across her hips as her legs went around him on the chair, kissing him full on the mouth, her hands and fingers in his hair 

Our friendly sidewalk street policeman

When they got in, he said in a very low voice,

“you stay down here —while I look upstairs ….just to be safe….I’ll check your—the bedroom and—“ then Leopold barked at him and ran up to follow excitedly sniffing around as they went up the stairs ….

Faun sighed as she wondered about the state of her room….

Oh no….she realized what a hurry she’d left in this morning —she’d missed the alarm getting up because she couldn’t sleep last night and when she finally did the sun was coming up and she missed the alarm —so the floor was a nightmare of this morning’s rejects of clothes and of course underwear ….God! How embarrassing —did she make the bed….? 

She paced the kitchen and looked around for signs of anyone ….ohhh….

“Uh—Grant!” she suddenly shouted, “come here!”

And together, beast and human came running down the stairs, 

Faun stood by the door where it joined the other kitchen—the doorway that lead out towards the ‘community area’ with the salmon couches. 

She pointed to the floor—which was red brick—and what she pointed to —there was a clear outline of a muddied shoe—coming from that direction —it was a very big bootprint—and if the intruder hadn’t risked putting on the light, he’d not have known what he left of himself behind. 

“That’s not my foot,” Grant said, matter-of-factly, “someone’s been here, I think.”

“Should we call Pierre Reaux?”

****

In the end, they settled on just calling Officer Sullivan and as he’d given them his official police ‘business’ card with the direct extension printed clearly on it, this seemed the better choice.

This time Officer Sullivan wasn’t as suspicious nor was he as unfriendly as before. If anything, he seemed glad of the interruption on his slow night, and had even chuckled saying so.

He came right over and looked around, letting King Leopold sniff him before following Grant upstairs ….and then through the kitchen doorway —pointing out the footprint before getting a guided tour with Grant, dog en-toe.

But, in the end, after some casual chatter with Grant about England he shrugged, filling out the report with Grant, whilst sealing up the lighter in a plastic baggie,

“I’ll run some prints, maybe, who knows? I’m glad the dog turned up—I wonder where he had gone ….well, let me know if anything else strange or unusual happens,” and then he left 

“Well….” Grant shut the kitchen door that lead out to the porch and leaned on it thoughtfully. 

“It is unsettling that someone has been here—“ Faun shuddered looking up at him 

“Come here,” he said, even as she was only a few inches from him; he tugged just hard enough on her raincoat to make her fall against him, “maybe you shouldn’t be alone tonight—if you are scared,” he said this against her ear as he took hold of her head in his hands and added, “I promise to be a perfect gentleman,” and held back a laugh.

And her stomach growled again, 

“I just realized I made a spinach quiche earlier—do you like tomato and basil? I think it came out tasting more like pizza,” she laughed as she went to the refrigerator, getting it out, 

“that sounds great,” he said 

She went to the oven and turning the dial and he followed her, pulling her against him when she had stood up from the oven. And then saying, “where were we?” running his hands up the back of her neck through her hair 

But then—

“Wait right here,” he said suddenly and removed his hands from the thickness of her hair, regrettably dropping the weight before sliding his hands down her face, down her shoulders and arms to her waist then rested on her hips then went through the doorway through the other kitchen. 

Soon he came back as she was shutting the oven door. He had two plain glasses and a bottle of wine,

“I was saving this for something but now seems the right time.”

a lighter note Mystery walk home

 

And as they walked, the drunken feeling had remained upon Faun, still, from his kiss.

Some awareness did seep in when she thought she spotted something on the driveway as they walked up towards the gate 

“Hey, what’s that?” Faun pointed to the ground; it was about midway up the drive

So, they went that way towards Faun’s Volvo to see what it was on the ground

Faun bent down and picked it up 

“A cigarette lighter?” she looked from the cheap, ordinary, bright orange disposable lighter then up at Grant, “is this yours?”

“No—that’s not mine,” he said and they looked at each other wondering who could have dropped this, and what were they doing on the property?

“That wasn’t there before,” Faun looked at Grant then at the ground and, consciously lowered her voice, “when we walked by before with King Leopold ….”

“No….” Grant agreed.

They stood there thinking about this. Yet, King Leopold looked unconcerned. Odd. He was a very good watchdog. He always picked up on danger and knew the right people. Right now he was quite calm and almost docile. 

Grant sighed over all the tedious concerns that came with this,

“let’s go in your way—I want to make sure someone didn’t try and get in that way,” and—again he took her hand; so reassuringly warm and so natural too as if they had always done this, his fingers wove between hers on the way to the door….how can such an innocent touch ….as that….become more….she wondered…. But the reaction it caused—was it from the fear? the adrenaline? The way how he slid his fingers in between hers, the way it was as if he was touching her somewhere else 

but he reached for her hand 

A short dogwalk back down the sidewalk street, granted by the fawning sky

 

During their ‘exchange’, Grant had dropped the leash, he realized, but King Leopold had been laying on the pavement at their feet; the red leather handle in his mouth as he watched the occasional car drive by. It was clear out now, after the rains and it was possible to see the stars in the sky. 

“Oh look,” Grant pointed up as he casually bent down to take the red dog-leash handle from King Leopoldo’s mouth (Faun hadn’t noticed), “that is the Dog Star—Sirius—you see it there?”

She looked up,

“oh it’s bright,” she said seeing this clearly 

And as King Leopold stood up, the three of them headed back in the direction of the grey-lilac Victorian house, with the now drenched overgrown garden 

side street dogwalk with some wolfish intent

 

Faun took the umbrella for the walk, even though the rain had stopped and Grant had purchased a dog leash which clipped on neatly to his collar. 

They walked without any hurry as King Leopold lead the way, leisurely stopping to sniff the ground at times as they walked down the block, passing the quaint, little houses nearby with their unique individualistic twists to the original architecture of the homes that sat closely to their neighbors. 

And as they walked, Fawn tried to keep her mind off of what had just happened between them on the couch—as she wasn’t sure if it had all been her own action that brought it about and fearing it was, she felt embarrassed about her actions. What had come over her to behave in such a way?

But she reined her thoughts from continuing in this direction and made an effort to walk respectfully outside what she thought of as his personal boundaries. She had, for a few moments, berated herself too with thoughts of— how could she take advantage of the poor man when he had just had such a shock and ….then there was that otherworldly ringtone she kept reminding herself about that kept haunting her since the last times it happened. These thoughts caused her to pull her rain jacket around her tightly, and turn up the collar demurely, along with her guilty thoughts of the feeling of that kiss; how it had felt in the heat of the moment ….well, it burned in her memory and swept over her body with its liquifying, residual impression.

She reprimanded herself because she knew she should instead be thinking about all the things that happened when the police and detective had arrived.

But she really didn’t want to think about this either. She didn’t want anything to disturb or rather ruin ….that something ….she had felt which had passed between them with—that kiss. The quick flash of this thought burnt her skin everywhere despite all good intentions…. and, absently, she stole a quick glance at Grant as she thought this…. she wasn’t sure, but when she turned to look at him under the fall of her hair, she thought she had caught him looking at her…. but then he was being pulled away by King Leopold as he had found some favorable spot.

Faun turned away under pretense of respect, which allowed herself a fleeting moment. She touched her full mouth. She could still feel him there. And she wondered how she would ever be able to erase its effect upon her. His. In her own memory, she could not ever remember any other ….who had such an effect. And it was not the first time she had felt it with him. It had happened other times, if she allowed herself to ….recall….but she avoided this thought. It would have brought her to the first time when she had looked into his green eyes which subconsciously had the ability to make her feel she walked in a field of lush grass each time she looked into them; one like rich green-ochre and the other that had shards like the Gulf Stream and could somehow pull her under its bog

She forced herself not to let herself further go there, and made herself focus instead on the adorable little houses that she loved to look at on her local walks of the neighborhood. Tonight all their Halloween lights glowed in the evening, and she marveled at the imaginative residents who were so creative in the displays they achieved. And as they walked, it seemed a wonderland of something magical, as if all of it had been put there just for them. The orange and the Halloween purples, the flying witches on broomsticks, the Nightmare characters, the bats, and Great Pumpkins…. but—then she’d caught the scent of him; it was something in the scent of his hair from what he used; somehow it lingered on her. She realized it was on her fingers—she….had touched his hair….during their kiss. She recalled this now. As she had landed upon him and fell into his mouth, her hands had reached to feel what it felt like—first to his neatly clipped facial hair, that same rich brown as his hair, and then had gone to his hair, lavishing in his textures, so thick and coarsely ….masculine, like his scent which….still lingered on her fingertips.

But like a song you don’t want to keep playing in your head when one gets stuck there, was that ringtone. Who was it that kept calling him? 

She physically shook her head now to force away how this made her feel….and she reminded herself….’it is not any of my business, what right do I have to presume to be jealous?’ 

“Are you ok?” Grant suddenly asked her having noticed this and he himself felt concerned of his own actions of offending her during that moment; had he taken advantage of the kindness she had showed him?

“Oh!—yeah!” she said—with maybe too much enthusiasm

In the street light he could see her delicate complexion flush again…. but then, she did not pull her eyes from his right away; she seemed to search his carefully as she moved slightly closer. Searching. For…. ? it was actually for a sign of ….what he might be thinking….and if she were honest with herself then she would have admitted it was for a sign of what his real reaction was of her forward move on him. But she couldn’t really tell. He seemed to be studying her with his own concerns that she could not interpret which masked any clue for what she was searching for.

She had no way to know that his own doubts of offending her were much the same.

Faun caught another warm scent from him—this was slightly different, a kind of pleasant, wood-like, spicy scent she could not place but caused a sensation to rush through her as she inhaled it; it made her feel a bit dizzy and she tried to not allow herself to reveal this but, she lost her balance by the effects. 

He caught her arm as she was about to trip over the uneven pavement of the sidewalk

Again, they both started to speak at the same time 

“Look, I’m sorry if—“ (him)

“Hey, about wh—“ (her)

They both stopped in their speech realizing they were about to refer to the kiss —and, truth be told; it had not just been a kiss. There had been something —much more intended that had most overtly ….transpired ….and covertly, her face burned at the memory of the clear evidence of his desire —and the effect it had left upon her at the time had clearly left her with its takeaway reaction. Along with the lingering aftermath that also lingered. And wickedly played with her mind. At this moment it made her uncomfortable; but not out of embarrassment. 

Had he picked up on this? 

She moved to turn away just then but something stopped her, because, yes, her own effusion of scent mixed with lily of the valley, or was it patchouli or bergamot—?he couldn’t be sure ….gave her away—and that was the signal that caused him to suddenly push her up against the tree they stood by under the street lamp, holding her there, his hands in her thick and wild rubicund mane of hair, gripping hold of her skull in his hands. And this time there was no mistake about concern or worry for the action so that she forgot to think and forgot where they were—forgot King Leopold on the leash and the street with the possibility of passing cars; so caught in the feel of his kiss and the feel of his hands in her hair; the feel of his body pressed to the length of hers, the fabric of the drape of her burgundy dress strained and pulled slightly across her hips and lower between. And maybe she should have been thinking. Had she remembered how. But she wasn’t. It just felt too good to …. just give up ….to it. And lose herself.

She was not aware, then, that she had run her hands and flattened them to him; up and across his shoulders, while wantonly pressing into him and within the flannel business jacket he still wore, her fingers moving to and running along his scruffy jaw, stealing touches of him and his textures, desperate to know what they felt like and then burnt by the knowing of what she found. 

But then it was the loud sound of her growling stomach that caused Grant to break the kiss,

“I think you’re hungry,” he said, “I wonder if we can find any place open at this hour?”

It took a few beats to comprehend his words. His lilting accent spinning its poetry in her mind but once replayed a few times in her thoughts, she decoded his meaning, and flushed vividly under the streetlight,

“this town closes up like a drum by eight— do you like scrabbled eggs? I’ve got eggs at home”

Side st mystery; another dog eared page

 

King Leopold settled once having been around the familiar presence of Grant and Faun, of whom he had recently come to know from her visits at the house and when she’d come to look after him just the other night. And when they waited together in the yellow Volvo as Grant ran in to purchase King Leopoldo’s doggie bag and essentials, the giant puppy managed to get himself into the front seat of the car and try to sit on Faun’s diminutive (by comparison) lap, whimpering sadly and lapping her small featured face with his giant tongue, and soaking her in the process ….always a cat person, herself—for the main reasons of size, convenience and—well—smells, Faun resisted the first instinct to gag and shudder because—really, she was a push over when it came to animals of all sizes. So, well, what could she do?—she let him because Faun realized the poor little—big—dear….was now an orphan. Poor thing. Her heart went out to him. 

Even while, logistically, it was impossible for him to get onto her lap. Especially with the steering wheel there. So, instead, she let him rest his massive head on her lap—and half the front of his body. And while they sat in the parking lot of Walmart (the only still-open store around at this time) King Leopold lay like that with the occasional showers of affection. And in between playing ‘body guard’ (in the form of a barrage of terrifying, and terribly threatening loud bouts of barking) every time someone walked past the car.Which turned out to happen rather a lot. 

So she was relieved when she saw Grant walking towards the car,

“oh look! There he is! Look King Leopold!”

When Grant opened his side and realized there was someone sitting in his seat, he laughed,

“good thing I bought dog treats—and….what’s this, Leopold? You know what this is?” 

King Leopold barked excitedly at Grant

“Yes, it’s your favorite! Now, go retrieve it!” and Grant tossed a great big mastiff size bone into the back seat. 

It right shook the car making loud, arresting metallic sounds as he did so.

Grant slid into the seat and shut the door. And just as it started to rain again. 

Pulling up Faun’s driveway now she started to wonder about ….what was to happen now. Between the mysterious deaths of her landlords ….and what was to happen about the bookshop and ….her own apartment…. but how could she even think to bring such a topic like this up now? Of course she would never dream of bothering Grant with questions like this right now.

But as she stopped and parked Grant suddenly said,

“listen, don’t worry about your place—you signed a lease, nobody is going to throw you out, and it’ll be awhile before any of this makes sense but—I’ll make sure you’re safe and —I’ve already worked out your salary, if you approve, we can discuss it, but, if you give me your bank information, I can deposit it directly—we owe you the past few weeks and skip next month’s rent for your trouble.”

He didn’t wait for her reply and got right out, opening the back seat while saying,

“do you want dinner Leo? Daddy’s got dinner, come on boy!” 

Faun watched the giant beast chase after Grant as they ran down the drive in the rain 

It was a moment she sat there not knowing what to do. 

Was she to follow them inside that way?

Or should she just go home?

It had been such a long day. For both of them. So much had happened. 

And what he just said to her….kind of capped off the evening. So to speak. Englishmen can be so hard to read….and rather customary —she wasn’t sure if that was his goodnight. So she sat there for awhile watching the rain soak the windshield. 

Then her phone rang.

She didn’t recognize the number and yet it was the oddity of the numbers that made her answer,

“are you coming in?” it was Grant, “I think the king is expecting you—“ there was a loud bark in the background 

“I’ll be right there,” she said.

So there she went down the drive to the gate, past the now soaking wet overgrown garden and up the porch; he’d left the door open with just the screen door and she could see them inside as she walked up. 

Grant seemed to have the dog settled with a giant bowl of food,

“I’ll have to figure out what he eats, I’m sure that stuff is crap —I didn’t know what else to get,” he said as she walked into the kitchen; but his majesty didn’t seem to mind, Faun was thinking, as she watched the beast devour the contents in the bowl 

Faun noticed Grant had set a large bowl of water on the floor next to the food bowl 

“You mentioned tea,” Grant said, and removed a tin from the shopping bag as the tea kettle whistled on the stove. They both jumped, “this thing is ancient!” Grant said, shutting off the stove and finding the cups and saucers 

“Let me do that,” Faun said and reached for the tin, “Republic of tea—Mango Ceylon, that’s my favorite.”

“I never tried it, I took a guess,” he shrugged, “you said you don’t drink milk—thought you might like this—it’s coconut and almond, unless you like it without.”

“It depends—either way—I’ll try it,” she was momentarily dazed by the fact he remembered what she’d said. Or had heard her. Most men never bothered to hear things like that—in her experience. 

“I didn’t think of food—unfortunately….” and to demonstrate, he opened all the empty cupboards to show her. “Are you hungry? You must be—it’s late.”

“Don’t worry about me—unless you are? I have food—I can make something and bring it over,” and as she said this, she waved her hand at the door she had entered there through by the salmon couches 

He glanced at her hand and smiled,

“you wouldn’t have to go all the way down the driveway—“ and now he suppressed a chuckle as he walked towards the little dinning room. He kind of waved at her as he went that way and once in the dining room he faced her but pointed to his right where on her side there was only a wall, “there’s a stairwell through this door—which goes actually up to the room I told you I stay in when I’m here but this door —which is on other side of the laundry room—is the door that leads into—“

but now she understood,

“Oh! My apartment! That’s my kitchen door!” and she ran  into the dining room where he stood so that she could see. 

“Huh!” she said and reached into her clutch bag for her keys, “I wonder if one of these keys opens that lock, I was afraid to try it,” and when she did, it easily turned. The door itself took more effort—as it seemed not to have been opened in awhile. But then it swung open

Had she come home in her normal way—the porch from the driveway—with her apartment you entered directly into the kitchen from the porch. And, although s rather small kitchen, it was a fully updated kitchen with green granite counters, stainless steel appliances and polished wood kitchen cabinets. 

“How funny,” Faun said as she considered the days they must have been facing each other without realizing it, standing on either sides of the same wall. 

King Leopold came over to investigate now too.

It was a rather odd set up. Her apartment was on two floors. While the kitchen and sitting room was down stairs, you had to go up a narrow staircase to reach her bathroom and bedroom….which meant they shared the same bedroom wall as well.

“There’s a bathroom, in the kitchen—which is odd—see?” she said, “Arthur called it the ‘field hand’s washroom’ he said this house was on farm land years back when it was first built and after a day in the fields plowing, they’d come home all muddy and so would wash when they came in the door,” she opened the door to the small bathroom that looked like it still had the original plumbing—a very old toilet with the chain pulley and a narrow black tiled square unit with an old shower head with hot and cold turning levers, like the old sink with an antique mirror above it. 

“He never told me about that—that is interesting. Have you flushed it?” Grant asked her

“Yeah—a few times. I wasn’t sure of it at first, but Arthur said it—“ and now King Leopold barked upon hearing the name said again…. And for a moment Faun stopped talking to bend down to pet him and touch his face. Then continued talking to Grant while looking at King Leopold, “will likely outlast the other plumbing—I think he kept it because he ….liked antiques—like the old cash register at the shop….and the safe.”

“I know ….he did like his antiques—well—I think our tea has steeped by now.”

Faun followed Grant back through the door to the other kitchen and shut the door between closing it but leaving it open a crack 

And, yes, in fact, the teas were steeped and now Grant held up the coconut-almond mild, 

“shall I?” he stood beside the cup and saucer closest to Faun and twisted open the cap of the container

“Why don’t we have it in here?” Grant walked back into the salmon colored sitting room, “although, these sofas you will find not the most comfortable.”

“Well, my place only has room for a loveseat —and mine is more shabby than chic, to be honest—but then I don’t even have a tv—oh, you don’t say tv, do you? Oh, yeah, you guys call it—telly—“

He had been watching her without being obvious about it; among all the drama, she had been such a good sport, he was thinking and, had she not been there he —would not have admitted it to himself but, he would have been quite a reck right now …. But now as she said this he laughed suddenly and without thinking he put his index finger to her lips and stared down into her face. 

It hadn’t been a planned move. It surprised the both of them. 

But now suddenly he was looking down into her pretty upturned face, with those strangely slanted dark eyes he found himself now staring into. And her face, which —he noticed ….had become suddenly flushed by this action. And his proximity. 

What was she saying? 

He’d forgotten. 

What were they doing?

She’d forgotten.

They stared into each others eyes. 

The dog barked breaking their spell. 

Grant blinked and shook himself,

“actually, there is a tv in here,” and as he said ‘tv’ he winked at her and walked over to the wall that faced the porch by the kitchen where there was what looked like a cabinet. But when he opened it, the two doors receded into the wall

“Oh that’s a—dumb waiter!”

As Grant said,

“it’s a butler’s lift.”

But instead of trays of prepared meals meant to be lifted upstairs, there sat a large flatscreen television the perfect distance from the largest salmon couch

“I usually find something streaming because I’ve found navigating the channels here is a lot like navigating the English Chanel,” he meant that to tease her for what she’d said and as he spoke he tried to find something now. He wanted to find something for them to watch to take their minds off of the somber events of the day. “Oh, what do you think of this—I’ve been watching a recent Viking find; it’s a group of archeologists on a recent excavation in Iceland.”

“That sounds great,” she said and actually meant it too and as she moved towards the kitchen to get their teas and brought them over. 

They seemed to forget about food.

There was large old leather trunk that sat on the floor and seemed to serve as a coffee table and here is where Faun put their cups and saucers.

And, as there would have been no other place to sit that allowed for television viewing, as Grant moved towards it he looked at Faun and smiled letting her decide which side to sit. She picked a side and he sat on the side closest to the door and King Leopold jumped up and placed himself between them before resting his head on Faun’s lap where she had turned herself to prop herself slightly to rest her lower back against the arm rest and put her feet up on the trunk.

It as a good documentary. If it hadn’t been, Faun would not have been so absorbed in it. In fact, they hardly noticed when King Leopold jumped down to find his bone, and went to chew on it stretched out on the floor in front of the tv. So absorbed in the show, she’d hardly noticed she had kicked off her pumps and pulled her legs up onto the sofa. That is, not until she stretched out her legs on it and felt his legs were going in the other direction

….but he did not seem to notice. And it was at an exciting part of the documentary as they were showing the tools of some legendary Viking lord and all he said was,

“are you cold?” as they were both staring at the screen as the tools were displayed on the screen 

“A little,” she said still watching the screen amazed; hardly noticing that he had pulled a heavy throw blanket across their legs 

It was a two hour documentary and King Leopold fell asleep with his bone and somehow Faun’s legs had wound up nestled comfortably, but unconsciously intermingled with Grant’s grey flannel trousered legs, his own shoes on the floor not far from hers. And then it was hard to say exactly how it happened, when Faun’s phone rang inside her clutch bag; she had forgotten she put it on the side table next to Grant. And when she reached to get it, climbing over him in order to shut it off, he had, at the same moment, reached for her clutch bag in order to give it to her small—but his move had surprised her, throwing her off, so —she actually fell! —and awkwardly, right on top of him!

It was quite embarrassing to her! Slam! And she fell! —and right on top of him! As she landed, and chest down, on him —trapped by the fabric of her dress, as it tangled her and fixed her there —and as she did so, he caught her— with his long limbs to steady her from landing on the floor. 

“Oh!” she nearly had the wind knocked out of her and when she looked up at him now her face was more flushed than before, and then —the phone stopped ringing 

“Missed it,” he said in a half whisper as their faces were now only inches away

“I should—“ she had begun to say ‘go’ as she stared at his sensual mouth— while she tried to move to get up, but drawn by the warmth of him, and the way his eyes watched her, and, forgetting she was trapped, and instead it caused her to fall again, as he caught her. And then, it was hard to say which of them it was —who first made the move, because then she was kissing his mouth—or it was it he who was kissing hers? 

But King Leopold interrupted the moment with that demanding bark that could only mean one thing 

“He needs to go out—“ they both said at the same time 

Side walk side street mystery, dog eared scene continued

 

Grabbing hold of King Leopard’s collar, Grant looked around at their surroundings. He had the sense that someone had been there before when he’d heard the rustling of the leaves 

“That Pierre Reaux seriously got on my nerves! I can’t believe he has the gall to tell you not to leave the country—what is he seriously suggesting you’re a suspect—like what?—you murdered your aunt? I mean, yeah, it is is an odd occurrence to have first one pass away and then the wife—I get that—but, seriously! His attitude! —he’s a crazy, self-impressed egotistical jerk ….But Grant, why do you suppose our chief detective was so angry?” Faun asked, bending to pet King Leopold on the head as they stood with the huge beast who seemed quite shaken too. He had tried to jump up against her when he’d come galloping over, nearly knocking Faun over, unaware that his own weight exceeded hers by some seventy or one hundred pounds but Grant prevented this by stepping between them and a sharp command.

“He said they should not have removed Aunt Fiona until he had the opportunity to investigate things before anything was touched.”

“Oh….” this gruesome detail was disturbing, “but…. they said they had to because—“

“Yes—because they said she must have passed away last night and ….”

He stopped short of saying that the remains would have begun to decay. 

Officer Sullivan with two of his crew and the chief detective had gone upstairs to look for evidence while one remained downstairs to look around for clues of forced entry. And it seemed he was told to stay in order to watch Grant and Faun. They had been upstairs a long time and had come down with clear plastic bags filled with objects from the room that they said was for evidence.

“Gosh….” Faun shuddered and looked at King Leopold, grabbing hold of the folds of his face and affectionately pressed her face to his smelly one, “poor thing—he must have run out for human help, I’d guess.”

“Would you?” Grant asked with some doubt 

“Well, I mean—no, I guess he was scared,” Faun said 

“Or—what if he wasn’t there when it happened?” Grant asked her in a consciously lowered voice 

and because he was whispering, so did she as she said,

“I guess that ….is possible but—why? —and where would he have been….? What are you thinking?”

Grant looked around,

“I think we should go—we shouldn’t be lurking around here,” and he looked back towards the bushes where King Leopold had come out from the shadows and then whispered, “I feel like ….there’s somebody nearby—“ and there was something more implied by his tone, “do you mind taking him with us in your car?”

“Of course not—but I think we should go back in the house first to get his food and things,” Faun looked hesitant at the house and then back at Grant

“I’d rather we didn’t—why don’t we stop by and pick up a bag of dog food at the store, there must be something still open now—I just assume we avoid going back inside there tonight,” he said 

At which point Faun thought she heard more rustling leaves coming from the same direction in the bushes. She looked at King Leopold finding it odd he wasn’t barking at the sound 

“Yeah—let’s go,” she said and dug into her clutch bag for the car keys

Side street mystery; dog eared page

 

Finally, after everyone had gone—with a menacing last remark from Chief detective Pierre Reaux,

“do not plan on leaving the country,” he said looking pointedly at Grant as if a warning, and then he had spun on his heel and left on the tail of the departing policemen.

Grant shut the door behind them and they watched from the window as the cops got into the police cars and Pierre Reaux disappeared across the street. They watched the police cars drive away soon followed by a silver nondescript sedan, the unmistakable profile of Pierre Reaux illuminated by the street light.

Grant had been holding apart the curtain at the window as they watched them depart, and now he dropped the sheer and then closed the heavy hunter green drape. He then went to each window to do the same. There were five windows that circled the front of the house and he went to each one after to do the same. 

When he was done he sighed heavily and leaned against the wall by the last drapery of the bay window he had drawn shut. He stared dully at the floor. Or rather his own shoes. But he was not looking at his shoes, really, he was examining his own thoughts and still seeing Aunt Fiona in his thoughts as she had appeared when he first found her in the bedroom. 

Faun’s first thoughts were out of concern for Grant, even as the shock of seeing a dead body which belonged to someone she knew—and had liked had left her quite shaken as well. Her first instincts were the need to find order among the chaos of everything; she relied heavily upon order, it was always her pillar and source of strength, but also, her desire to provide some means in which to be of help.

“Would it help if I made you tea?” she asked him 

Her words seemed to make no sense to him. At first he blankly stared at her but he was not seeing her, he was still seeing Aunt Fiona and that horrid impression still left upon his inner mental retinas. 

“Erm….” to pause to regain a lucid thought. Then he said, “not here….” 

Yes. There was the burning need to leave the house as soon as possible. 

Faun felt the same and looked around for where she had left her umbrella and clutch. When she spotted both, laid upon the entrance console by the gilt framed mirror to the left of the highly polished wood door she slowly walked towards this.

And cautiously Grant added with a sigh,

“but first, perhaps we had better look for King Leopold,” he raised his now bloodshot, shadowed-forest eyes as she turned to look at him.

Faun drew a gap in the drawn drapery and curtains to look again out the window nearest the console,

“it looks like the rain has finally stopped….” and then dropped the draperies to wait for him by the door, holding both her umbrella and clutch close to herself, repressing a chill that swept through her, “do you know where the house key could be?”

“Check the table drawer,” he suggested, remembering having seen it there often.

Faun found the key,

“we should lock up—make sure all the doors are locked.”

Once they had done they left together, shutting the front door, locking it, and went down the front path towards the chess pieces. 

It seemed a life time had passed since they had walked past them when they had arrived now so many hours ago.

In silence they reached the gate and paused a moment. 

“We can start looking around the block first—I think Arthur usually would walk him to the park thst is down that way—perhaps that’s where Leopold went….”

Faun followed where he pointed and turned as if to go but hesitated,

“Did the paramedic say it was carbon monoxide?” Faun asked him now 

“He said it was not up to him to determine, or something like thst—I forget exactly what he said—I’d mentioned what the coroner told me earlier….”

“Oh,” Faun thought about that 

For a few beats they stood paused at the gate still within the grounds

“What is that?” Grant asked slowly as he listened to something. 

Faun strained her ears.

“Do you hear that?” Grant asked her

At first she hadn’t but after a moment she heard a sound. Like a movement. It sounded like a rustling in the bushes that lined the front of the house. 

Faun reached for her phone and found the phone flashlight. They could see a skunk skulking in a run through the grass 

Instinctively they both moved back a few inches, even as they were well enough away. 

“Just a skunk,” Grant said opening the gate and waited to let her through first 

“Yes,” Faun said as they started out

But then they heard a louder sound of bustling leaves as the thick hedge was disturbed, followed by a loud bark,

“King Leopold!” they both said together as they watched the huge black mastiff come galloping towards them with a terrified expression on its canine, aristocratic face

No king of clubs; side street murder? mystery

 

It was only a matter of minutes before the ambulance arrived, no sooner hung up the phone, they could hear the sirens coming. And then almost just as quickly ….the paramedics pronounced Fiona Bishop dead. 

And then it was a whiplash of events that followed. 

Before the police showed up Grant and Faun sat stunned on the Bishop’s couch next to each other, staring into the room they sat in; the main part of the downstairs was their sitting room; a lavishly furnished room much like the bookshop with the addition of a harpsichord and a standing harp; there were bookcases everywhere filled with books; and books piled on the floor in neat stacks all over the hard wood floor. The colors were deep earthy tones of dark browns and greens with an occasional brick red here and there…. snd sitting there, it was impossible not to imagine Fiona walking through the room and laughing about something she heard someone say at the shop….

“Did you smell any carbon monoxide?” Grant suddenly asked her out of the blue 

For a moment Faun tried to remember ….

“No actually,” she said thoughtfully 

“Neither did I,” he said ponderously 

Then she sat bolt upright and looked at Grant,

“King Leopold!”

Grant sat up too and faced her—he would have stood but he was still in shock and the sudden head rush he got sitting up m, prevented him from standing up just yet. 

He looked at her then away, biting his lower lip as he then played absently with his facial scruff; he considered this. Then he looked back at her,

“he can’t have gone too far, he doesn’t like rain—plus, he’s a mastiff—he’s almost taller than you, someone would have seen him, I should think, and maybe taken him in….” and now he stood up feeling more confident that he could. He turned to look out the window, “it’s likely a good thing he wasn’t here or he’d —maybe be dead ….too,” still as he said this he began walking around the huge room and searching outside through each window, trying not to panic over another crisis, “god,” he said, “that’s all we need now….” 

“The neighbors all know him….” Faun stood up too and began doing what Grant was doing but it was pitch dark out with the exception of the other houses across the street with their lights on —as it was now half past seven in the evening. 

And then the lights of the police cars lit up the road as they looked out.

“It’s the police!” Faun gasped 

Grant glanced at Faun and walked straight to the front door where only moments ago the paramedics had rolled Fiona Bishop out on a stretcher; sheet over her face.

Grant did a quick inhale. Then out. Then stood by the door and watched from the window as four cops got out of two police cars from where they had parked; right out front on the curb. They left their lights flashing on the top of their cars and the spinning, luminous, red cast an eerie light on the evening. It was a formidable image to watch from the living room window of the Bishop’s house. Past the chess pieces, they stormed through, pushing wide the gate and not shy about the pieces they wore on their hip. 

Three very loud knocks followed,

“Police,” the biggest of the four stated through the door—Faun could see him clear from the window 

Grant opened the door. 

In loud pounding footsteps they entered the house, all looking around suspiciously before settling their attentions on Grant and Faun.

“Officer Sullivan,” he held up his badge with terrifying authority and narrowed cold blue eyes on both of them. 

And then it was a long grueling duration of questions, all asked bluntly in fast succession before getting their statements; and in the middle of this —another authority made his entrance; arrogantly cutting in and interrupting the cops’ procedures 

“Who are zese people?” the oily little msn asked Officer Sullivan with a heavy French accent; he wore a long black trench coat and he had dark greasy hair with an odd mustache 

“I’m sorry—and you are?” Grant asked the oily little man 

“I am Chief detective Pierre Reaux!” the little man straightened his back to make himself appear taller as he looked up at Grant, “and I will be investigating the events of tonight!”

It seemed quite unbelievable that any of this was happening; it was like something out of the mystery section, Faun was thinking 

“Did he say Poirot?” Faun looked up at Grant wondering if maybe this was a surreal dream 

Grant wasn’t sure either and looked back at Faun wondering the same thing 

Chief detective Pierre Reaux heard this though and sneered, and with an insulted tone and heavy sarcasm said as he looked down his nose at them, 

“I am not from Belgium—I am from Montreal!”

Faun had a moment to wonder to herself ‘so what are you doing here?’ and rather unimpressed by the man’s arrogance— instead of caring to be embarrassed that he caught the reference (it had to be the shock from the evening) Faun felt outraged! Grant had just found his family member dead —and now this little twit shows up! 

Bishop takes the square; Side street hard boiled mystery

 

After Faun put down the phone, she had the sense that something was wrong as she looked up at Grant; there was slightly more of that troubled look within his intense deep forest eyes with the exception of bright moss in one of them,

“Are you all right?” she had started to move to the cash register to remove the till but he was leaning upon the counter in a brooding manner as he stared dully at the row of volumes of the Oxford English Dictionary, the complete volumes taking up most of the bookcase that was beside the pillar and desk. 

“Erm….” he stared for a moment at the volumes thinking of all the words that must be …. and here he could not find one on how to begin …. finally he looked at her, “I don’t know….” 

The register drawer had popped open with an alarming ring but neither of them seemed aware of it

“Something’s wrong….” Faun said as more a statement than a question 

“Yes—well…. something rather…. quite disturbing and I’m not sure I should bother you with it,” he sighed 

“Is it about the Bishops? —or the bookshop?”

“It’s about Uncle Arthur—well, Arthur I should say as he was not my real uncle as I said and —they married late in life….second marriages, them both ….” he consciously spoke slower now to make sure she caught his words but—he wasn’t sure what he should tell her. Then he shrugged, “damn, I’ll just tell you as this may turn into a—well….I got a call today from the coroner’s office ….”

for a moment those last words hung in the air

At first she wasn’t sure she heard right. 

He watched her face. Such a pretty face too, he thought as he worried now about shocking it, so he raised his dark chestnut thick brooding brows as if to imply his words in case she missed it

It was slightly delayed. She said with s kind of gasp,

“coroners?—you said —did you say coroner’s office?” And her hand went to her throat as she accidentally leaned too hard on the till drawer and it swung back into the register with a loud cash register ring! It was also rather alarming and punctuated the moment 

Grant reached around her and took her first by her slight, narrow shoulders and then outside each arm he placed his hands to move her away from the register,

“yes…. the coroner’s office ….you see, it appears the cause of death was carbon monoxide ….”

“Oh my God!” Faun exclaimed as she thought of the tragedy of Arthur Bishop’s untimely death…. “ I’m so sorry, Grant….” that was the first time she said his name, it just slipped out all on its own and she looked at him

“Well—it’s Aunt Fiona I’m more sorry for….” he said in a hushed tone of regret looking down 

The following silence had Faun’s thoughts considering his words until what he didn’t say dawned,

“oh…. you have to tell her….”

He looked up at Faun now, relieved she connected the dots and then it was the dark, exotic pools of her eyes that lassoed him with their strange almond slant which were looking back at him and now caused him to momentarily forget what he meant to say. 

They were both quiet with their own thoughts for a moment. 

Finally Faun took a deep breath,

“I’ll come with you to tell her—were you going there now?”

Grant let out a sigh of relief,

“yes.”

Faun looked back at the register decisively,

“I’ll balance the till in the morning ….let’s go, we can take my car.”

In the car they were both quiet. It had turned dark and it started to rain as she drove, the wipers on the glass making their antiquated rhythmic sound that felt somehow very reassuring. What is it about old things that can be so comforting in times like this? Faun was thinking. She could have no idea that Grant’s thoughts had been quite similar as he watched the wipers move the rainwater across the windshield making irregular designs where the rubber was coming off the blade

“I should fix that,” he said absently 

“What?” she asked 

She had no idea what he actually said 

But then they were pulling up to the house and suddenly the dreaded deed loomed more uncomfortably for further chat 

“So—I left a message I was coming —so, I expect she knows ….” Grant opened the passenger door and got out.

she had grabbed an umbrella and opened it, raising it high enough over his head as she caught up to him.They walked up the sidewalk together 

The front of the house had high hedges and this gate was flanked not by the usual lions that often decorated pretentious people’s homes but but by two four foot tall, marble, sculpted, chess bishops and for a quick instant Grant paused to caress the top of one,

“he was a good player, I’ll give him that,” he said and glanced back at her before opening the black, iron gate and letting her through before continuing up to the door 

Faun followed behind him, then up the path to the door. 

He knocked, and called through the door,

“Aunt Fiona—it’s me—I’m here with Faun….” 

They waited outside in the dark. 

“No porch light on….” Grant said wondering aloud 

They both looked up to see if there were any lights on in the house that they could see from outside and to get a better view, they both walked back along the front walk to look up at the house to see if any lights were on upstairs. 

“Oh—yes, there—“Faun pointed, “that must be the bedroom—I see a light up there.”

Grant looked up,

“Ok, let’s try again,” he said and went quickly back up the steps to the door.

He knocked. This time the door latch came open and the door swung open.

“Odd,” he said and went in

“I think you should go up alone, maybe she fell asleep and it would be alarming to see both of us in her bedroom,” she said, “I’ll wait a moment—maybe I’ll make tea….?—or ….?”

But she had been here before. And something felt a bit off….the dog!

“Where is King Leopold?”

Grant looked at her and even in the dark it seemed he went pale as a ghost

“Leopold….” he rushed up the stairs 

Faun waited by the door as she watched ….

It seemed an eternity followed ….but was really only less than a minute before she heard him shout,

“Faun!”

She ran up the stairs and followed the light, she found the bedroom and there was Grant standing beside the bed next to…. what was clearly Fiona Bishop but…. she was not moving 

Faun moved slowly to Grant’s side and when she was beside him he said in a barely audible tone,

“oh my god….” he stood frozen, Faun reached for his ice cold hand as he whispered, “I think she’s dead.”

Side street mystery unfolds

 

In the end, that time, it was the shop’s phone ringing that interrupted them,

“….oh I should….” and she started towards the cashier desk where the phone was now ringing ; which was at the center of the ground level, a few feet from the stairs where they had been standing and which lead up to the next floor

he watched her run for the phone, mesmerized by the burgundy folds from the back of her. He watched her every move, somehow drawn—was it her scent or her aura? he didn’t know but pulled to as he was he could see the swell of thigh, which lead to a firm suggestion of —where it lead, to the slightest rounding that the folds clung to from behind with her every step, which captivated his stare as he said,

“I’ll just…lock up….” even as he still watched her furtively, as he moved to lock the two green, painted, wood-framed, glass-windowed doors. He listened to her answer the phone 

“Side-Street Book shop,” she said

She was behind the cashier counter by a dark glossy wood desk that was mounted to the dark wood pillar wall that matched it. It had vertical file shelves all crammed with cards and papers, a huge wrapping paper roll installed on a metal cutter and an antique stapler dominated the surface with a clipboard and legal pad in the center upon which she was scribbling notes. 

and as he came back he heard her responding to the caller’s questions,

She looked up as she saw him walking towards her  

“oh—I see…. well, I don’t see why not, but I’ll have to check with the owner first to see if they normally do this but —if not— I am sure I can get this for you—“ she was saying as Grant came walking over

Side street mysteries; what’s really going on?

 

And as she sat there sunk within these thoughts she slipped off a bit and far away…. he was speaking….saying something but….she was crushed ….

….and now she wondered what he was saying 

“What?” she looked up at him 

“Are you all right?” he asked her

“Yes. Thank you….” she automatically said but he didn’t believe her

“So, your favor?” she asked and the coffee maker let out a burst of hot air that startled her. She let out a gasp 

“Ah! It’s done!” he said, happily getting up 

She watched him pour and then he brought the two cups and saucers over and placed them down on the table. He let her go first. So she added the fake creamer and then mixed it around with the spoon. She sipped it carefully. Scalding. Put it down. 

Then she looked at him carefully from below her lashes to get a hint of his expression. What was this about? She wondered. And who was he talking to on the phone when he left the office? What was he talking about with the mystery books she had never heard of nor was there any listing of them on any internet search engine —as far as books were concerned anyway. That was what they had been looking up before the phone call ….that phone call— that interrupted ….well something ….that felt had begun —something between them as they sat there together in front of the monitor ….it was such a nice feeling

But also, she was beginning to wonder about the circumstances of Arthur Bishop’s sudden death. And what was that smell in the cellar?

“What are you thinking about?” he asked her suddenly ….he had been watching her sitting there. Some unlikely thing to say but he felt daring. As he asked this he observed her. She was so nervous. And the expressions thst moved across her face as she sat there he found so fascinating. But also ….her smell….there was some kind of sweetness to her body scent that had him quite distracted. What was that scent? It was not from a product; it was something of her own chemistry that filled his head to be near her. 

It seemed such an impertinent question to ask her. The sudden personal question. He didn’t pretend with his eyes. He looked boldly into her. His eyes were poet’s eyes, fringed with shadowed lashes and like fields of grass. When they looked at her, they looked into her and the look was almost violating but he smiled 

So why did she ….not say so?

Any other man ….

“I was thinking ….” she sipped the coffee 

“I know what you were thinking,” he said this in a lower tone but again he smiled and then sighed. He sat back and shook his head to clear his mind, “I erm….wanted to ask you if it would be possible to ask you to stay—to—um….run the ….shop—I mean, I’d help you figure it all out ….erm and you would be paid. He had a manager up until recently —don’t know what happened to him but —see, I’m knee deep with sorting his website out…and my Aunt—Fiona—she’s talking about going to live with her daughter back home plus I have my real job that I need to get back to….”

Long pause.

With Faun’s mind spinning she quickly said,

“back home….” and then added as if in delay, “Aunt Fiona back home…. back home?”

And he did an odd wave behind him to somehow indicate this and at the same time repeated,

“back home.”

So she said,

“back home, back home….” as by saying this it let her mind go over some thoughts …. And it seemed she knew how to carry on a conversation. It’s not hard. Just say the expected thing—but why were his eyes saying one thing —having one conversation as his mouth was having another with her …. but his sensual mouth ….

“So like a job? You are—like, offering me a job?” she asked “because ….she’s going.” 

“Well—yeah—I guess—and it would really help the family—the Bishops….”

“So what’s going to happen with the shop?” Faun lifted the coffee cup to her mouth and sipped, her eyes met his and this time it was her eyes asking other questions 

Side street mystery

 

There was something so quaint about the little two story house; which was the main reason that Faun decided to take the apartment. Like most of the others on the block, the house had the original architecture, with the original house foundation; circa the Victorian age, which oddly obviously left its influence on the town Faun observed, ironically, much like the historical American revolutionary plaques mounted all over town and leant its mood everywhere. All the houses were similar on the street but each had their own unique exception that made them stand out on their own. One was painted a pale shade of pink with white shutters and a matching unattached garage; they had a pale yellow picket fence and a front garden bursting with hydrangeas.

Another house beside it was all subdued shades of grey. This one had a neatly manicured lawn with two ancient weeping willow trees which flanked the house and which gave it more subtle hues of twisted shades in grays. In warm weather, it owed relief from a bright contrast by the shock of pink cast from the Hamilton rose bushes that outlined the home’s front door path which decorated a canopy of arching trellises to the door 

Faun always liked to imagine what went on inside those houses, each so different from the other and walks around the block often caught her observing the residence along the street. 

The pale lilac grey house that the Bishop’s let was the most subdued on the street, even with its two apple and maple trees and the big oak that a tire swing hung and shaded the front porch and west facing house with its wide stretching branches. Perhaps the jewel in the crown of this house was the front porch. It was furnished with matching rocking chairs, the kind you would picture in Cinderella with the big circular shaped rocker legs and padded with white, hemp, crocheted macrame with long sweeping fringes.

Faun had never gone into this part of the house, her apartment had its own private entrance at the back of the house, so as she walked with Grant up to the front, she curiously let herself examine what she had never been close enough to see. 

The front garden was overgrown, she noticed in the dark as they passed to go up the steps of the porch. She glanced at the rocking chairs and the tables beside them as Grant stood at the front door to open it with a key.

“I should have put the porch light on,” he said more to himself as he searched for the lock opening with the key; but then he got it and swung open the door. He stood aside to let her in first. 

He flipped on the light switch by the door. They had stepped directly into the sitting room from the doorway and off to the left she saw was the little kitchen; she caught a glimpse of a small dining room beyond. 

In the sitting room there were three sofas; two small and a bigger one. They were the kind of couches that seemed might have been there when the house was built —even as that was impossible, but it looked like it might, with the wood frame and salmon velvet upholstery —that didn’t promise comfort but seemed to preside. The floors were hard wood with various rag rugs thrown casually everywhere; and then, the tables were oddly colonial and matched the bookcases and the framed embroidery on the walls; and as they walked in, their footsteps echoed throughout the room. 

“So—sitting room—“ and here Grant swept out his arms pointing grandly to demonstrate at the couches, “kitchen this way….” he directed like a tour guide for Faun to follow, and as they came to the door that lead in, left open he now flicked the kitchen light switch by the door

It was a simple, tidy kitchenette with plain but solid wooden cabinets that also looked original to the house, but the plain avocado colored stove/oven range was less antique, although far from state-of-the-art, like the coffee maker that sat looking rather friendless on the otherwise bare counter top with its faux marble design.

“And dining room,” Grant stepped past the partition and flicked on another light. There hung a little crystal chandelier over a modest wooden, oval shaped colonial table with four matching colonial chairs. He flicked off the light and turned back into the kitchen, “I usually just sit there,” he pointed to a small square table that had two plain mismatched chairs placed around it

The light in the kitchen made an odd hum Faun noticed, looking up at it; it made her wonder how old the electrical wiring was as she noticed the art deco style of it.

“So—coffee?” Grant asked as he leaned against the side of the sink and turned to face her.

“Um—yeah—sure….” and awkwardly Faun moved, deciding to help him prepare it, she hesitated as she reached to open a cabinet door in search of materials required.

“No, you sit,” Grant smiled at her and carefully reached to remove her hands from the cabinet by taking each hand in his, having moved behind her, and then he gently walked her to the little table and pulled out a chair, and obediently, she sat, the contact of his hands on her momentarily stunning her

as he was saying,

“I invited you for coffee so the task is up to me and I don’t mind doing it.”

As this gave her the opportunity to watch him, she didn’t mind either. And as he opened cabinets and the coffee, he showed her was the shop’s signature brand,

“have you tried it?” he asked her

“No.”

“You’ll like it. It’s my favorite coffee,” he said as he measured it out and poured in the water. He placed two very, vintage, diner, white coffee cups with saucers on the little table where she sat with two spoons, “oh—I don’t have milk,” he said suddenly remembering 

“I don’t drink milk anyway,” she said 

“How’s fake creamer?”  he showed her the package

“Perfect,” she said

And as they waited for the coffee to finish, Grant sat down in the other chair on the other side of the small table. Then he said,

“I do need to ask you a big favor —about the shop ….”

“Ok….”

“So, I’m —that we—that you —that we can chat a bit ….” he struggled over what to say and second guessed every word.

She didn’t notice. All she heard was: a favor ….?

And now suddenly she was crestfallen ….and she found herself ….depressed over this sudden chilling mystery

was that the only reason he asked her to join him for coffee…. ?

 

Far from the maddening crowd side street

 

Faun had no idea why, but since she had been running the bookshop, she’d show up there only in skirts and dresses, no doubt the years of habit from her bookstore days. Unless it was the decor itself that drew her into its mood or her need to blend into the surroundings; in this case, the wallpaper. 

There was no way Grant could have known why she dressed the way she did, but as to her blending into the background —would not have crossed his mind. She perhaps complemented the William Morris entryway wallpaper or was it the other way around—?he was hypnotized to stare at the precise place where her longish dark green skirt with swirls of paisley stopped at mid calf to reveal astonishingly sensual long legs despite her pixy height, and at the moment had him captured. But Faun did not notice as she was still examining the screen, sat at Arthur Bishop’s office desk chair.

But just then Grant’s phone rang causing the both of them to jump with its otherworldly intrusion brought by the ringtone 

“Excuse me, I have to take this,” he politely said and stepped out the office door, shutting it behind him

Faun looked at the door he had vacated and sat for a moment knowing a moment of total bewilderment. She just looked at the door. It seemed awhile she sat there feeling dull. It was as if something had hit her on the head. She thought: what am I doing here?—should I go or….what would I be doing right now if he….

….blank 

Slowly she rose from the desk and, feeling strangely dizzy she stumbled into the edge of the desk as she lost her balance. Again she stared at the door as she leaned on the edge of the desk. She could hear his voice through the door but no words came clear, it was only the hum and tone of his voice. 

She shook her head as if to wake herself up and said aloud to the empty room,

“I should go….shouldn’t I?”

Quietly, she went to the door and opened it. He glanced up from his phone as he saw her and their eyes met; hers dark and bright and his shaded in the dimness where the shadows made his expression unclear. He stopped talking just then but she waved and quickly walked in the direction they had come toward the back entrance of the bookshop from the cellar.

Since it was creepy at night, especially this time of year with all the Halloween decorations everywhere, that sense hung about down there, so, she quickened her way back up to the shop.

She completed her evening routine for the shop—more habit from her past, and her need to tidy things up; cash drawer balanced and totals written into the ledger, and then once locked up, grabbed the cloth cash bag, then grabbed her raincoat and handbag; a small clutch, then out the door, she locked up. She hesitated. Should she set the alarm, or would he?

“Oh you’re off!” came a voice behind her from the street side. 

She spun around. 

Grant stood there looking at her from the sidewalk. 

“Yes, well—I thought ….”

“Sorry, that call was—“

“I wasn’t sure if I should wait—“

They spoke at the same time. Awkward. 

“Umm,” Faun shrugged and then held the key as she said, “I just need to lock up and set the alarm….”

“Of course,” he said and as she turned to do so, he walked over to her.

It was dark now, the sun had gone down and he wondered if she would be all right out here on the street alone. He felt compelled to ask but was not sure how without sounding patronizing.

Instead she said,

“do you need a ride?”

He had walked.

“I’m staying just a few blocks from here, but—“ he smiled

“Me too—I just drive here because I have to drop the deposit at the bank —which is far,” she waved a cloth bag at him, “that’s my car there—“ she pointed to an old 1970 faded yellow station wagon Volvo. “Care to come along? I can drop you off.”

When he opened the passenger  door it made a loud creaky sound but the interior was clean and everything looked like it worked. He slid in at the same time as she did and they shut the door at the exact same moment. This seemed to make them both look at each other. They both laughed. 

She said,

“you must be used to getting in on that side,” as she started the car. The engine revved up with muscle as she pressed the gas.

“Yes,” he said as she pulled the car onto the street.

“So the bank is that way—which way are you?” she waved to the left.

“Why don’t I come along for the drop,” he suggested and added, “I’m that way,” and he waved to the right.

They fell quiet as she drove to the bank, her thoughts in conflict. One part worried about what he might think of her driving as men generally don’t like women to drive them in her experience, unless it was her? She followed the speed limit. But she also started to wonder if —he just came because of —the cash bag? was he suspicious of something else —or should she be —or was he but of who? She glanced at him and noticed he was looking at the speedometer

After the drop—a secret kind of hidden drive through by the bank that required a key, he watched her walk back to the car, her long legs gliding with athletic grace and reminded him of the glimpse of leg that first caught his eye.

She got back in,

“so which way are you?”

“I’m by Elizabeth street,” he said

“Oh, me too!” she said and then pulled the car down the familiar way that she always took going home. 

It was strange having him with her. But also not strange. In that it was strange because it was not strange. Having him with her. It felt more normal. Which for her, that in itself was not normal. 

“Erm—“ he started to say something 

but at the moment he began, so had she,

“So—“

“Oh!”

“Oh!”

They both said 

Faun kept her mouth shut.

“Was just thinking —or—wondering—I mean, this town closes up early—“ he was saying but he spoke quickly and she didn’t get most of those words as he paused between, “no, I saw a Starbucks back there I remember or—which way is that? Do you know?”

She caught that word,

“Starbucks!” she repeated, “you like coffee—do you want—?”

“Well, is it out of the way, I meant if you want to join me?” he asked —just as he recognized Elizebeth street, “oh but here we are….”

“Well—we can still go….” even as she turned the car down Elizabeth and while saying so it suddenly began to rain and at the same moment that it began —with a bolt of lightning for emphasis as something flew past the windshield 

“Maybe it’s a sign,” he said as the sky had lit up, “did you see that?” he pointed 

“What was that?”

“That was a bat.”

She met his gaze as she stopped at the corner to look at him. But the chill that passed through her was not fear. Her eyes fell to his mouth for one instant and….she found herself wondering how it would feel to kiss his mouth. Perhaps prickly. As she noted the way his facial hair outlined his lips casting sensual shadows 

“You’re not afraid of them?” he asked 

It took a beat too long for her to interpret his words. She kept staring at him. She looked into his eyes. Repeating in her head the syllables. She fell inside them. 

“They’re more afraid of humans,” he was saying 

but she was still decoding and lost in the music of his voice; it was deep and rhythmic as she’d imagined Thomas Hardy would sound 

He said,

“I’m just to the right after the next corner—actually, I do have a coffee maker there, if you’d like to join me? It’s a bit rough but nobody lives in that part of the house where I’m at.”

As she turned following his direction, something suddenly dawned,

“are you at 56?” she slowed at a house and pointed 

He smiled slowly,

“I should have realized—you’re the rental! Or I should say the renter—I didn’t put it together—“

“Yes—oh—I’m their renter —that’s how I met the Bishops!” as she realized what he meant. She met the Bishops when she took the apartment they advertised for rent.

“I forgot—they’d mentioned but—the yellow Volvo should have ….” he was saying as she pulled up the driveway to the back of the small, narrow two story old Victorian style house with a front porch, “when I visit, I stay in a dormer room with an en suite, I use the community kitchen which has a coffee maker.”

She put the car in park and as they unbuckled their seat belts they both laughed 

“There’s a community kitchen? I never noticed! I’ve been thinking I had a new neighbor!”

“There’s a community dining room too and sitting room—would you like a tour?” he asked 

 

Side street story/Not an Agatha Christie In Sight

There was something very weird about the cellar, Faun had only been down there once when she was first shown where the thermostats were for adjusting the shop’s temperature which were set on an automatic timer.

“What is that strange smell?” Faun asked as they went down the stairs. There was a dampness down here too, and an odd hum, like some kind of constant motor running. 

“Oh, well this is where the old movie theatre was, the popcorn maker there?— Aunt Fiona makes gourmet popcorn for the shop—or had done…. not sure what will happen now but that’s part of what you smell —and, they roast the coffee beans that are sold in the shop and on line—did they tell you about that?—but there’s also Aunt Fiona grows a vegetable garden right out there and she’s big on her onions which grows right by that exit door,” Grant pointed 

She understood most of what he said this time as he slowed down his speech a bit as they were walking,

“this way,” he said and showed her down a narrow side isle she hadn’t known was there. 

“It seems inconveniently placed from the shop’s access,” Faun remarked 

“I believe that was intentional,” and they turned another corner, “however it is accessible from the street on the other side.”

At last at this turn she could see the convenience of being inconveniently out of the way. 

“This is a botany lab,” he told her

“I smell eucalyptus,” she sniffed the air 

“This way,” he said again

and then there it was—a glass wall with adjustable blinds revealed a wood paneled office lined with dark wood filing cabinets and furnished with a heavy dark wood desk, leather chairs and of course —bookcases loaded with vintage leather bound books

“Please, have a seat—“ and he pointed to the chair at the desk that faced a wide screen computer monitor 

“You want me to sit there?” she pointed to the desk 

“Please,” he said as he pulled one of the leather wing chairs over for himself and placed it next to the swivel desk chair in upholstered burgundy leather that matched the other

Once seated he tapped the computer and the screen lit on

“I wanted to ask your opinion—the figures —you’ve been doing the daily totals ….see, these are the online orders for the website sales and that column are those figures there….”

Faun looked at what he pointed to not knowing what he was trying to ask of her to see

But then she said,

“I didn’t realize they had such a successful online store, I mean —if that’s how much they made last month.”

“Hmm,” Grant made a sound of the affirmative 

It was impressive and accounted for how it was possible to have kept up the shop so well….but—

“I don’t understand why they bother with a shop when—“

“Exactly! But, no—here’s the thing, I set up Uncle Arthur’s website several years ago and I’ve helped him run it from over there as he was not the most tech minded person —but do you recognize any of these titles?”

Faun turned her attention to another document Grant opened now which listed titles of books along with their isbn number, store sku and their listed prices. In all her years working with books, she knew popular titles snd authors so well that she could count them instead of sheep at night in her head; classics?—she was a walking Amazon search engine and ….these titles she was looking at were ….completely out of her knowledge and page after page of the document she searched looking for at least one title or author she recognized 

“What are these?” she felt herself get curious as she read the titles, “‘Hit Man Bash’ ‘Chronic Youth’ —Dom Demenico ….wait—do you have Google on your phone—can you look up this author?”

And as he reached for his phone there was suddenly a kind of bond between them; it was a subtle shift but it felt as if some kind of unspoken level of a kind of intimacy had been formed between them as their shared intrigue drew their attention

“Nothing!” Grant said and showed her what came up. It only showed a spelling correction and then instead of an existing author, a suggestion with the origin of the Latin name 

When she looked up from his phone to look up at him she was aware of how close he was leaning as he showed her the screen of his phone and —she found that instead of pulling away from his nearness, she liked his presence there